Omission
by Zee Viate
Summary: When Tony is seriously wounded, Gibbs makes the necessary notifications. Contains spoilers for 'Flesh and Blood' and 'Faith'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story is set prior to 'Rule 51'.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Tim signed the form and thanked the nurse as he exchanged the clipboard for the personal effects bag. He retrieved the large styrofoam cup of steaming coffee he'd set on the counter and turned to head back down the hospital corridor.

As he turned a corner that brought the waiting room in view, he stopped short and his fingers tightened to a white knuckled grasp into the plastic bag. Gibbs was no longer seated alone as Tim had left him. Now, he stood with his back to Tim across from a man in surgical scrubs who was speaking with a grim, apologetic expression on his face.

McGee didn't move, only waited and observed. The man finished talking and left the waiting room, heading the opposite direction down the corridor from McGee's vantage point. Tim watched as the boss just stood there still for thirty seconds then collapsed into a chair, placing his elbows on his knees and dropping his face in his hands.

"No," McGee whispered. Too low and too far away for Gibbs to have possibly heard. But, as if in response to Tim's denial, Gibbs looked up and saw him.

The eye contact got Tim moving and he went to sit in the chair beside Gibbs. Gibbs took the coffee from McGee's hand and took a sip.

"Was that the surgeon?" Tim asked.

"Nurse."

"How's Tony?"

"Still in surgery."

"What did he say?"

"Prepare for the worst."

Tim looked down, through the clear plastic at the contents of the bag that rested on his lap. Wallet, cell phone, badge, keys, breath spray, loose change and what looked like a receipt with the name 'Carrie' and a phone number written in blue ink on the back. Tony's SIG had been stowed away at the scene in an evidence box once Fuller's team had arrived to take control. The bloody clothing that had been cut off his body was still in the hospital's possession, awaiting incineration. It wouldn't be necessary to preserve the clothes for evidence. There would be no trial as the perp was beyond earthly justice, killed in the shootout.

McGee looked back to Gibbs. The boss was staring into the coffee. His face masked with the familiar intense, vaguely-pissed default crisis expression.

"What time's Ducky due back?" Tim asked.

"2100."

Mallard and Palmer were away, in New York, at an ME's convention. Ziva was gone as well, attending an EOD seminar at Ft. Hood. Abby was home sleeping, ignorant of Tony's injuries. Tim had started to call her on arrival at the hospital but Gibbs had stopped him, saying wait. Let her sleep until morning or until they had something to tell her. Tim glanced at his watch. It was 4:43am.

"I'm calling Abby," Tim said.

Gibbs shook his head.

"Go. Tell her in person."

"But-"

"He said at least another hour yet. I'll call if there's any news. Go, bring her back."

Tim hesitated then nodded. He stood and took a step before he glanced down to the bag in his hand as if just realizing he held it. He extended the bag toward Gibbs who took it without comment and Tim left.

Gibbs stared at the bag for a few seconds. Then, he opened it and removed the cellphone. He resealed the bag, shoved it into his jacket pocket, and left the room.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Gibbs stood outside the hospital in the cool, dark early morning, cell phone in hand, open, with a number he'd found in contacts highlighted. A twist of anger tightened his chest. Anger colored by grief and tinged with envy. The monumental waste was almost harder to forgive than the effect his neglect had had on Tony. Four months had gone by since Gibbs had urged the man to _do it. _To finally get to know his son and, finally, appreciate the gift he'd disregarded and squandered for so many years.

The result-nothing, as far as he knew. He'd forced himself not to ask but figured he would have heard had DiNozzo Senior made any attempt to connect with his son. The man didn't deserve Tony and his endless second chances. But, Tony deserved a father that gave a damn and maybe this would be Senior's wake-up call. He hit send. Seven rings in, the message played.

"_This is Tony DiNozzo and I'm so sorry to have missed your call. If you'll leave your name and number, I'll be back to you as soon as possible."_

"This is Gibbs. Tony's been shot. Call me."

Typical, Gibbs thought. Out of reach when he was needed. He sighed and looked down at the phone, scrolling through the contacts looking for 'Ken'. That was the only name Gibbs remembered from the group Tony was to go to Panama City with the following weekend, caseload allowing. He stopped the search when he saw the name 'Jack'. He chose that name and scowled when a familiar number showed.

Jackson Gibbs and Tony had hit it off from their first, brief time spent together. During his father's Christmas visit, they'd become even chummier. At Jack's invitation, Tony had spent hours of his spare time in Gibbs' home over the holiday stay.

Tony had come once for a home cooked dinner and had been over at least twice more that Gibbs knew of. The first time, he'd spent an evening on the couch beside Jack, watching and commenting, sitting through three of the the old western movies Jack favored.

Gibbs had taken a book and settled in the easy chair. This was before he'd discovered the secret that had been eating away at his father. He'd surreptitiously kept an eye on Jack, relieved that he'd seemed to enjoy Tony's company and annoying monologue and really relax for the first time since his arrival. Gibbs had been grateful he hadn't faced another strained night alone with his father, worried and wondering what had prompted the change in the man.

The next time, Gibbs had arrived home to find them at the kitchen table with a Rook deck dealt between them, in the middle of a match. He'd declined the invitation to join them and headed for the basement. By then, he'd known what had caused his father's mood swings. He had felt ill equipped to help past listening and felt duty bound to stay available most of his home time rather than indulging in too much time alone. Gibbs held true to that duty even though his father had extremely little to say on that subject and endless things to say on endless other subjects.

Tony's presence had, that night, allowed Gibbs to escape to some sweet solitude without dragging filial guilt along behind him. Through the closed basement door, he'd heard only the murmur of conversation interspersed by laughter. He didn't strain to hear words or make any attempts to eavesdrop. Most likely, at least some of the chuckles were at his expense and what he didn't know couldn't piss him off. As uncomfortable as he was with Tony having such unlimited access to his past and private life, the time alone and the sound of his father's laughter kept him from interfering.

Gibbs was happy they'd hit it off, grateful for Tony's company that helped his father through a hard time. But, he hadn't considered they still talked frequently enough to warrant a spot on a contact list. Conversation with his father wasn't an easy or simple thing for Gibbs. He wondered, outside him, what Jack and Tony found to talk about.

Gibbs closed the phone and was about to put it in his pocket, but stopped. He didn't want to deal with his father right now. But, Jack cared about Tony. He possibly cared a damn sight more than Tony's own father did. He would want to know, had a right to know. Gibbs opened the phone back up and made the call.


	2. Chapter 2

His allowed five minute hourly visit at Tony's bedside had crept eleven minutes past its limit when a nurse entered the treatment module to do the tinkering and checking and adjusting they did. Gibbs quickly moved aside and left the room without comment.

The nurse on the previous shift had adhered strictly to the time limit. She would usher him in, tell him he had five minutes, leave and return exactly five minutes later to tell him his time was up.

Nurse Patterson, who had taken over three hours and forty five minutes ago, hadn't accompanied him to Tony's bedside on his first visit on her watch. He had approached her to tell her he was due his time with DiNozzo. She had smiled and nodded and he'd gone alone to Tony's module. Eighteen minutes later, she'd come with a syringe in one hand and an ampule in the other. With another warm smile, she had said "Excuse me" and stood aside the entrance, her body language urging Gibbs out of the tiny room. Gibbs had left.

The same pattern held through his next two stays at Tony's bedside. He had taken that as an unspoken agreement that he wouldn't be chased away as long as he didn't get in the way. He was grateful and didn't test the arrangement with conversation or push to stay longer once she made her entrance.

As he entered the waiting room, he was relieved not to see the couple who had been awaiting results of their mother/mother-in-law's post auto accident surgery. He hoped the news had been good but was glad they were gone and he was finally alone.

Gibbs had spent the day and evening giving information on Tony's condition (settling on 'not looking too good but hanging in there' as a rote response when asked how Tony was doing) and accepting assurances of thoughts and prayers. Vance had been by earlier as had a majority of DC based NCIS agents. Representatives of Baltimore PD and DC Metro had also come.

Tony's parade of visitors went beyond the typical law enforcement show of solidarity and support for an officer down. Members of Navy Yard security and the building janitorial staff and mail room employees all were by. As were baristas from the coffee shop and a deli owner. When she stepped up to introduce herself, the cashier from Tony's favorite pizza place had broken down and cried on Gibbs' shoulder.

Most of the visitors had asked to be pointed to DiNozzo's family so they could pay respects and offer support. Over and over, Gibbs had explained the absence of any relatives with the excuse they were traveling and had yet to arrive. The truth was that Anthony DiNozzo Sr. hadn't even returned his phone call.

In marked contrast to Tony's team mates who stuck like superglue. Less than an hour earlier, he had finally convinced Abby and McGee to leave. Due to deliberate sedation, there was no chance Tony would wake before morning. Still, Abby had been adamant about staying at the hospital to wait with Gibbs.

On that last, and successful, attempt to get them to leave, he had caught McGee's eye and Tim had read him well. McGee had dragged a protesting Abby away, promising to bring her back after a few hours break. Gibbs was finally alone and free of the burdens of expectations and commiseration.

He sat impatiently waiting for the next opportunity to be with Tony. He'd been urged by Nurse Patterson to go and rest, assured that DiNozzo wouldn't wake for many hours. Left unmentioned was the fact that odds were he wouldn't wake at all. That was what kept him there, why he couldn't leave. That possibility that he refused to entertain that nonetheless loomed before him and followed every step he took.

He decided that next time he would push his luck. He would only step aside when the nurse entered, not leave. If asked to leave, he would argue, do everything in his power to stay with DiNozzo. Tony was not going to die. But, if he did, he wouldn't die alone.

He'd had twenty minutes of solitude when the one person whose company he would welcome walked into the room. Ducky came to stand before him.

"How are you?"

Faced with his old friend, the temptation to answer the question honestly roughened his voice.

"You should be asking about Tony, not me."

"I've just spent the last fifteen minutes familiarizing myself with Anthony's condition."

Gibbs straightened in the chair, hoping Mallard had found reason to be more optimistic than the medical professionals tending Tony.

"And?"

Mallard took the seat beside Gibbs before speaking.

"You know the prognosis is grim. But, they don't know Anthony DiNozzo and his tendency to overcome daunting odds."

No reassurance there. Gibbs slumped back into his seat. In the silence that followed, simmering resentment bubbled back to the surface.

"I started calling Senior eighteen hours ago. Nothing."

"Not entirely," Ducky said. "He chose to contact a less intimidating source."

"What?"

"Dr. Alman told me he rang. When he wanted to discuss care and options, he was told that you, as Anthony's health care proxy, had it in hand. There followed some rather acrimonious debate as to who had the right to make those decisions."

Gibbs' anger that Tony's father had done an end-run around him was tempered by a rush of bitter gratification on hearing about the slap-down. The man had strung Tony along his whole life with only blood ties binding them. It was way past time Senior realized that those blood claims had limits.

"He expect to do it second hand and long distance like everything else?" Gibbs asked.

"Apparently. Once Dr. Alman convinced him your proxy trumped his next of kin, he left instructions to be contacted immediately upon any change and said he'd be here as soon as possible, within the next few days."

"Days?"

"Days," Ducky repeated. "Unavoidably detained."

"Unavoidably? When his son's lying there-" Gibbs stopped, refusing to voice the medical opinion that mere hours, much less days, could be too late. He shook his head.

"Sonofabitch." The curse was low spoken but vehement.

"At the very least, a man with his priorities sadly disordered." Ducky said. "Do you suppose transportation costs could be the delay?"

During a bourbon-fueled session in Ducky's study one night, Gibbs had let loose and gone on at length about Senior. The rant listing his deceit and failings and what he deserved and didn't deserve had devolved into a drunken lament on the unfairness of life that was the last thing he remembered before waking the next morning, viciously hungover, on Mallard's couch.

"On the second message I left him, I said I'd arrange a plane ticket."

Ducky shook his head.

"It's hard to understand how he could value the charade more than the chance to be with his son."

Par for the course, Gibbs thought. Charades, shell games, women, expensive scotch. There was a long list of things Anthony DiNozzo Senior valued more than time with his son.

"One of the more unfortunate failings of human nature," Ducky continued. "How often we take the most precious for granted, especially our families. Cliches abound; we nod and agree. But, for too many of us, never the profound realization until it's too late. Life is, truly, short."

Gibbs felt a familiar mingle of irritation and guilt, heavier in this instance on the guilt. He spoke, suddenly driven more by an urge to confess than discuss.

"I called my dad." Gibbs said.

"So I heard."

Heard? Gibbs thought, puzzled for second. Then he scowled realizing there was only one way Mallard could have heard about that phone call. Irritation spiked and he wondered if he was the only person on earth that had trouble talking to Jackson Gibbs.

"What the hell, Duck? You got him on speed dial?"

"He called me because he's concerned. For Tony. For you. You're not the only one awaiting word for eighteen hours."

The chide was gentle but struck with force. He should have never called his father to begin with. At least not until there was definitive news. He'd dragged his dad into this awful limbo then left him standing alone, not wanting to deal with the aftermath and emotions. His father's concern felt like just another weight on his back.

"I told him I'd let him know when there was any news. Nothing's changed."

It was no excuse, he knew. A good son would have touched base, news or not. But, he hadn't laid claim to the title 'good son' in decades, if ever.

"Jethro..." Mallard sighed.

"I know, okay? I know. I should've called him back. I will."

"That won't be necessary," Ducky said. "He should be here within the hour."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This story is set prior to 'Rule 51'.

::::::::::::::::::::

"I told him not to come."

"So he said."

"You didn't encourage him?" It was more an angry accusation than a question.

"I didn't discourage him." Mallard admitted, unrepentant.

"Dammit, Ducky! That's all I need right now."

"Your needs are debatable. His are understandable and obvious-concern for a friend and a desire to support his son."

He didn't need support. He needed to maintain control and this was one more thread snatched away as he struggled to hold on.

"He's not driving?" Jackson Gibbs, bum leg and all, was pigheaded enough to do it, but it was too far for him to do on his own.

Ducky shook his head.

"He went through his friend Marge to secure a ticket through the Internet and make hotel reservations. I took a cab. Mister Palmer waited behind at the airport to collect and deliver him here."

"He doesn't have to stay in a hotel." Bastard he was. But, if Jack was here, he wasn't a big enough bastard to not take him into his home.

"It would be for the best," Ducky said. "It's within walking distance, close enough by for naps and rest away from the hospital for you as well as Jackson. And, no forced company during trying times."

The elevator dinged and Gibbs turned to see his father and Palmer step out. Jimmy threw one furtive glance Gibbs' way then hung back, avoiding eye contact. Palmer must have heard Jethro didn't welcome his father's visit.

Ducky went to greet Jackson then remained by Jimmy as Gibbs' father came to him.

Jethro braced himself and stood.

"Dad."

"Son."

He'd been on guard for the expected 'Leroy', his father's insistence on calling him what he'd named him rather than what he preferred, that always triggered irritation. The 'Son', full of concern, threw him off balance.

"Any change?" Jack asked.

"No."

"Can I see him?"

Gibbs glanced up at the wall clock to see it was only four minutes shy of his scheduled time. He nodded and motioned for Jack to follow and led him to the nurse's station.

"This is my father, Jackson Gibbs," he said when Nurse Patterson glanced up at them. "He'll be taking this one."

She smiled and nodded and Jethro walked Jack to Tony's module entrance then stood just outside. His father went to Tony's side and leaned his cane against the bed rail. Both hands free, he grasped Tony's hand in one and cupped his cheek with the other palm in a less inhibited display of caring than Gibbs could have ever managed observed.

As he watched, Jethro's perception whirled off-grid and, for an instant, he felt himself in both Jack's and Tony's places in the scene. He came back to himself flooded with resurrected childhood memories of embraces and solace found in his father's arms. The sudden, intense longing for that past comfort left him almost defenseless. He turned away and returned to the waiting room.

"I need coffee." Gibbs was talking to himself but Ducky responded.

"You need no such thing. You need sleep. You have to rest, Jethro, and now is the time to do it, while Tony's sleeping. I'll stay with him. You go, get your father settled in, take a few hours to rest. You're close by, could run here in minutes and I promise to call if there's any change."

Earlier, he'd vowed not to leave Tony's side. He didn't want to go but, on the verge of collapse, he knew he had to.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

They didn't speak during the block-long walk to the hotel, trailed by the sound of the luggage wheels rumbling against the sidewalk. Jack didn't protest when Jethro approached the clerk to check-in and handed over his credit card. He asked for three keys and gave Jack one of the key cards before they headed to the room.

It was a typical generic, mid-range room. Two double beds with pastel floral spreads and nightstand between. By the air conditioning unit was a small table with two chairs and, opposite the beds, a flat screen TV on a bureau. A micro fridge was set up in the bathroom's ante space.

Gibbs longingly eyed the mini coffeemaker sitting on top of the microwave but denied himself. Compelled as he was to fight the exhaustion and stand watch awake awaiting word on Tony, he knew he had to rest.

Jethro set the suitcase on a bed, Jack sat down beside it and Gibbs sat on the other bed, facing him.

"I saw you in Tony's cell phone contacts. You keep in touch, talk?"

"Yeah."

"A lot?" He was much more curious as to what they talked about rather than how often.

Jack shrugged. "Every week or two, give or take."

"About what?" Hearing his unintended suspicious tone, he tried to cover quickly.

"Not a lot in common."

"Well, there's you," Jack said with knowing exasperation. "You worried we're swapping tales out of school?"

"No."

A lie following an interrogation; another failed attempt at smalltalk. Jethro imagined easy and spirited chats between DiNozzo and Jack. Both of them could talk to anyone and were overly fond of the act of talking itself, so it was no wonder they'd enjoy conversing.

Gibbs was as close to Tony as any other person living but lively, free-flowing, back and forth conversation was rare between them. Sometimes, a torrent of words from Tony, brief responses from Gibbs. Sometimes, long stretches of silence. But, those silences were comfortable, the opposite of silences shared with his dad.

After a few seconds, Jack spoke.

"I like Tony, enjoy talking to him, he makes me laugh. I like to know how you're doing. I call him."

"I call." Gibbs said, defensively. He'd called more in the past year than he had in the previous twenty years.

"Yes, yes you do. You call me, you do your duty once a month now, like clockwork. Like changing out a fish tank, or cleaning the gutters or-"

"I'm trying!" Gibbs cut him off. Failing, really, he thought as he recalled the string of forced, strained phone conversations.

"I know." Jack's tone was gentle, almost apologetic.

After a moment, he looked to Jethro with a small smile.

"He reminds me of you, before you were mad at the world. And me."

"Not anymore." It wasn't entirely true. But, he knew that any lingering anger was more the result of his own failings than his father's.

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow but, thankfully, let it go without arguing the point. Just as Tony had, for so long, let his father's transgressions slide.

Considering the relative sins of Jackson Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. and the measure of absolution granted by their sons, Jethro felt a stab of remorse and irritation. He felt compelled to apologize to his father but angered by the urge.

Jack unzipped his suitcase, pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and set it on the bedside table.

"This place got glasses?"

Jethro went to get and unwrap two plastic tumblers and set them on the table. Jackson poured both cups half full then raised his cup, tilted towards his son. Gibbs matched the motion in an abstract, unspoken toast. After they'd both drained the shots, Jack spoke.

"You called his father?"

"Yeah."

"He coming?" The hint of scorn in his tone told Jethro that Jack had heard about Senior; possibly more than Tony had told Jethro.

Gibbs nodded.

"When?"

Utterly exhausted, terrified by the threatening loss, his conscience raw, Gibbs hesitated before answering.

"As soon as he can," he said, then lay down with his back to his father and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I've had difficulty writing for a long time. Adding to the problem, a few months ago my laptop expired and I lost all my documents including all the rough drafts of future scenes for 'Omission'.

I've decided to write what I can, post it and hope things improve as I go.

Since I apparently didn't make it clear enough in chapter one, Tony was injured in a shoot-out with a bad guy. The bad guy was killed. The specific nature of his wounds wasn't mentioned. He was hit in the thigh and chest and suffered major blood loss.

Thanks for reading, I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. This is short but I hope to have more soon.

* * *

The doctor stepped off the elevator and Jackson Gibbs began speaking before the doors were fully closed.

"The sonuvabitch finally called today." Jack's tongue and temper had mellowed as he aged. But, over the past few days, he'd been edging toward the profanity of prior decades.

"To actually talk to Tony, I mean; called his cell phone. I guess he found out he'd woken up from those sneaky calls to the doc. So, he calls today, when the boy's half out of it, can't hardly listen, much less talk. I was holding the phone for him, on speaker, and I almost snapped the thing shut. Him spouting his bullshit all concerned and fatherly. Tells him he'll be here soon. It's too damn late for soon!"

"Dad...," Gibbs said, in a vain attempt to rein-in his father.

"Six days, Leroy! Six days his son lying there maybe dying and he's nowhere to be found. He's a sorry excuse for a man that doesn't deserve a boy like Tony and Tony sure as hell deserves better for a father."

"Doesn't matter who deserves what, he is what he is. Tony's father."

"Why do you keep defending him?"

"I'm not defending him. I'm stating fact."

"So am I!"

Jethro sighed. Jack's concern and caring and hours spent at Tony's bedside earned him every right to be pissed at his absent father. Jethro would have loved to let go and join him in an all-out, father/son-bonding rant against Senior. Jack wasn't saying anything Jethro didn't feel, and then some.

But, Jethro knew the apparently amiable old codger still had it in him to turn into the raging bull when it came to defending those he cared about. Senior would eventually show up and Jethro was doing his best to defuse the explosion that threatened when the two men met. He'd exercised a huge measure of self control to not join in the frequent tirades and tried to damper his father's anger.

"I know, Dad. You think I feel any different? But, you gotta do what Senior never has—put Tony first. He's gonna make his appearance and you're gonna grit your teeth and keep your mouth shut. For Tony's sake."

* * *

Over the next few days, Tony's condition improved and Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. called daily. Jethro was in the room when Tony took two of those calls. Tony's "I understand, no problem, fine, no rush" end of the conversations told him Senior was feeding his son a typical line of bull and Tony was allowing him his excuses. When the calls concluded, Tony immediately found topics to talk about to block any reactions Gibbs might have had to the calls.

He was sure Tony knew what he thought of his father and his absence. Keeping in mind his admonishments to Jack, Jethro kept his anger and thoughts to himself and allowed Tony his transparent diversionary tactics. He'd have liked nothing more than to hear his senior field agent let loose on his old man. But, he couldn't judge coping mechanisms begun as a child and developed over a lifetime. For Tony's sake, he'd play it Tony's way.

* * *

Four days after Tony woke, Gibbs was sitting on a bench outside the hospital entrance, having just ended a phone call with McGee, when he caught sight of Anthony DiNozzo, Sr., in suit and tie, walking his way. He knew the instant Tony's father spotted him, the recognition quickly covered and glance averted as if he hadn't seen him sitting there. If the man thought he could just walk on by him, he was sadly mistaken. Jethro stood in the middle of the path, forcing Senior to stop and acknowledge him with a terse greeting.

"Gibbs."

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I was unavoidably detained."

"Unavoidably? What? Amnesia, coma, kidnapped? What's more important than coming to your son when he could be dying?"

"There's nothing more important to me than my son."

"Yeah? How come you've spent the last thirty-odd years proving different?"

"I don't intend to defend myself to you."

When he attempted to step around him, Gibbs moved to block his way.

"Try."

It was both a demand and a dare. DiNozzo, Sr. seemed as impervious as his son was to the Gibbs glare and rage. Or, was at least a good enough con man to give that impression, his only reaction a pause to shoot his cuffs before replying.

"I couldn't do him any good here. Taking just those few days to complete what I'd already started, I'm able to offer him financial support and give him a dream come true. I spent that time brokering a deal and securing invitations yachting on the Riviera next spring and the Cannes Film Festival. I don't know if you're familiar with Cannes, Gibbs. But, I can assure you that my son would much rather accompany me to Cannes than have had me sitting here useless holding his hand."

Jethro wanted to wipe the smug, condescending expression from Senior's face; to beat into the man what should have been a father's natural instinct. But, if Senior didn't have it in him to want, to, above all things, _need _to be there at his son's side there was no way to convince him that a father's care and presence was what his son had wanted and most needed from him his whole life.

"For a man so insistent that I'm late, I'd think you'd want me at my son's side as soon as possible. So, if you'll excuse me..."

Gibbs fought his rage, intensified by the emphasis DiNozzo placed on two words. _My son_-possessive and deliberately dismissive of Gibbs as of no consequence weighed against Senior's blood right. Jethro turned away and began walking, leaving Senior to follow him into the hospital and elevator and down corridors, both men keeping silent and eyes forward on the trek to Tony's room.

Jackson was siting in a chair by Tony's bed which was inclined at a 45 degree angle. Jack's smile of greeting to his son turned into a glare when he saw DiNozzo follow him into the room. Senior ignored Jack. Rather than going to Tony's left bedside, where an empty chair sat, he maneuvered himself between Jack and the bed to reach over and embrace Tony as best he could at the awkward angle and kiss then cup his cheek in a hand. Tony's eyebrows raised and Jack's glare darkened on the view of Senior's rear.

"How are you, son?"

"Better. Have a seat," Tony said, indicating the empty chair. Instead of following his son's direction, Senior turned to look down at Jack, stepping fractionally, as much as possible in the small space between them, closer in a silent demand he abdicate his seat. Jackson scowled up at him then deliberately turned his gaze to the old black and white movie playing on the wall-mounted TV and ignored the man hovering over him.

"Dad," Tony's tone was weary and exasperated. "Meet Jackson Gibbs; Jack this is Tony, Senior. Jack's spent a lot of hours in that chair, been there, taking good care of me."

At Tony's words, the elder Gibbs looked away from the TV and up at the elder DiNozzo with a satisfied 'take that, you sonuvabitch' smile. Jethro sent his senior field agent a mental 'attaboy' for the subtle rebuke to his father and nod to Jack. It wasn't the reaming out his old man deserved, but it was better than the resigned, unchallenged acceptance of all his father's excuses so far.

There was a flash of anger in Senior's eyes and the briefest clenching of his jaw before he quickly covered and switched gears. He put on a wide grin, amped up the charm and beamed down at Jack.

"And I certainly do appreciate that. So nice to meet you, Jack. Thank you for all you've done. But, I'm here now. And, I'm sure you understand that I'd like to spend some time with my son."


End file.
